


The Adventures of the Traveling Datapad

by whiplashcrash



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Lasat kisses because LASAT KISSES, M/M, Mutual PINING is real!, small minor mentions of scars from past torture, smooth lasats for fulcrum_reader, welcome to me trying to do a kalluzeb version of a grey's anatomy episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25275862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiplashcrash/pseuds/whiplashcrash
Summary: Yavin IV’s Rebel population loves gossip, and if there’s anything those running mouths love more than gossip, it’s fresh unexpected gossip. Try as he might, Zeb can’t help that he’s a prime target for gossip. Or more accurately,  he could, but there’s a certain Captain that leaves him more vulnerable than he’d care to admit, and doesn’t care to change. If he’s reading the signs right, Kallus might feel the same. But that’s a big if, and a daunting first step keeps him dancing on one edge of the chasm while Kallus stands on the other.Oh, well. Secrecy might be overrated anyways.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 15
Kudos: 81
Collections: Kalluzeb Summer Exchange





	The Adventures of the Traveling Datapad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fulcrum_reader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fulcrum_reader/gifts).



> Have a great day fellow Kalluzebs!! Hope this exchange is lovely for everyone!!
> 
> This was inspired by a subplot in Grey's Anatomy Episode "Beat Your Heart Out", Season 5, Episode 14. I hope you enjoy!!

_The Adventures of the Traveling Datapad_

To Garazeb Orrelios, there was nothing finer than the freedom to choose the way you walked.

Of course, he enjoyed the freedom to do as, say and go where he pleased, but there was something tantalizing about the speed at which one moved across the open stone expanse at the foot of the old temple on Yavin IV. He could run across the stone path, skittering towards the _Ghost_ because he was running late and to run late would mean he would miss his chance-

But he could also slow his pace to stride with purpose and an easily applied casual demeanor once in sight of the _Ghost_ , as if he had all the time in the galaxy at his fingertips.

Right on cue, the moment Zeb took one step onto the ramp of the _Ghost_ , the welcome boot of the man departing the very same ship at the very same time caught his attention. 

Zeb watched the neatly kept muttonchops and flowing blond hair appear from the inside of the hold, and that tell-tale soft smile on the same face hand in hand with the dazzling brown eyes. 

“Hello, Garazeb,” came the warm greeting. 

Zeb didn’t miss a beat and flashed a ready smile back at Kallus. “Hey, Kal,” he said just as warmly, refusing to let the excitement at not having missed Kallus’s departure from the _Ghost_ despite being held up by the gaggle of pilots chattier than a colony of stray tooka cats asking for food.

He was imagining it, he was sure, but Zeb saw a flash of white teeth and Kallus cheeks flushed pink as Kallus’s eyes flicked up to meet and hold Zeb’s gaze in the moment just before they were no longer in sight of one another. Just before their backs were to one another, Kallus looked away, and so did Zeb, but his shoulder brushed against Zeb’s arm as they passed.

Zeb felt the layer of sweat against his skin, and the scattered hairs across Kallus’s arm, which he could feel in great detail with the green jacket slung over Kallus’s other shoulder, grasping the collar with his opposite hand. 

And then the moment ended, and Zeb continued upwards into the hold of the _Ghost_ , knowing Kallus would make his way back to the temple. He would disappear into the maze of pilots and machinery and grav-sleds, but before he did, Zeb dared to turn to look over his shoulder, and watched Kallus continue his stride, scratching the back of his head to ruffle his fingers through that growing blond hair.

_Karabast._

“Zeb, you’re here,” Hera said, appearing above his head to peer down into the cargo hold, smiling but surprised. “I thought you were busy helping the fighter repair crews.”

“I was,” Zeb admitted, “Needed to grab something from one of the toolboxes on the _Ghost_. Hope you don’t mind.”

Hera’s lingering stare said it all. She was clearly debating making a comment about there being plenty of tools in the main hangar, as both of them very well knew. “I don’t mind, as long as I get _my_ tools back, and not the ones those airheads try to swap out for them. It’s not my fault they don’t take care of their tools, and it makes it harder to do maintenance on their ships.”

“Right, not fair to you. You know what, I’ll tell them as much myself,” Zeb said, backing away and shaking his head.

“They should know better than to take other people for granted,” Hera said.

Zeb got the feeling she wasn’t just talking about herself. 

“Right. That’d be not so good, then, wouldn’t it?”

Hera crossed her arms and cocked her hip. “It’s okay. I have faith you’ll make the right decision,” She said. “When you’re ready.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hera,” Zeb lied, even if every other instinct screamed not to.

Hera lifted one eyebrow and cocked her hip, staring at Zeb and humming. “If you say so. Get something to eat before you go. You’ll get grumpy if you’re hungry and those repair crews are getting on your nerves.”

“Right,” Zeb said, watching Hera stride over to the ladder and climb up out of sight.

Daring to peek out of the _Ghost’s_ cargo bay’s ramp, Zeb’s sharp eyes caught sight of Kallus’s retreating back one last time, and he sighed with a goofy smile.

If Hera saw him, Zeb knew the less than subtle sound and expression on his face would say it all. The immense relief that washed over Zeb at the realization Kallus was settling rather well into Rebellion life did not go unnoticed under Hera’s watchful gaze. Nor would it begin to, as Zeb knew all too well.

* * *

In the kitchen, Zeb poured over the scattered leftovers. While there were at least a dozen remnants of the various meals of the _Ghost_ crew, none of them were in the container he was looking for, the one he’d set aside and labeled with his name scrawled in aurebesh for everyone, but mostly for Ezra, to see. 

He grumbled to himself, wondering where the meal could possibly be when he heard the footsteps echoing in the hold below. _Weird_. All the Spectres were supposed to be in the Temple or off working on some assignment or another. It was possible Ezra was attempting to skiv off his share of the work, in which case Zeb would gladly surprise him and offer a personal escort back to the hangar where Zeb was sure Ezra was supposed to be.

Metal ringing in the air earned Zeb’s undivided attention once more, as whoever was in the _Ghost_ was climbing the ladder up into the common spaces. His ears flicked and twisted before his head did, and when Zeb turned to look for the source of the sound.

Emerging from the cargo bay of the _Ghost_ , Kallus’s head appeared before the rest of him as he scurried up the ladder. His foot reached out behind him to plant itself on the floor of the common room and he leaned back over the gap from which he’d emerged to stand without fear of falling.

Focused on whatever task he had at hand, Kallus didn’t seem to see Zeb, which was a relief, and allowed him another opportunity to try and sneak in the brushing of skin, which would be more difficult now that Kallus was wearing his green jacket instead of just the shirt, but not impossible. Zeb watched the blond hair ruffle as Kallus ran his fingers through it, those same gloved hands brushing through the locks as surely as they did offer a gentle, even affectionate, pat to the

With a few long but no less confident strides, Kallus ended up at the dejarik table where he sifted through a collection of toolboxes and odd knickknacks, one of which included a datapad.

Zeb gently closed the door to the chiller and moved silently, no small feat, across the same room to reach the same table at which Kallus stood, and just as he reached for the datapad he was sure Kallus was searching for, his fingers collided in the gentlest of ways with Kallus’s, their palms separated by the leatheris of his fingerless gloves.

Turning his head with a knowing smile, he met Kallus’s hesitant but somehow still steady gaze, and lifted the datapad from the surface of the table. Kallus took it into his hands, only turning away a moment later when Zeb continued to stare. Brown broke away from green, and Zeb listened to Kallus move across the room from which he came without a word. The human’s boots not quite scuffing against the floor as he reached for the ladder.

Zeb dared to turn over his shoulder, and as soon as he had, Kallus’s head was already looking away, enough Zeb only caught a flicker of his eyes and a sliver of a glimpse of his face. But Kallus had been looking back at him, Zeb realized with glee, collecting the a few scattered tools Zeb suspected Hera would rather have been put away than left out.

Placing those tools into their boxes and pretending he wasn’t oh so intently listening to Kallus was torture. To any Lasat, the telltale twitches as he heard Kallus move down the ladder, and out of the ship, were a dead giveaway, but even the oblivious Ezra would’ve been able to tell what his deepest desires were when Zeb stopped and sighed at the already fuzzy memory of their skin touching.

He was hooked, and yet again, Zeb already wanted more.

* * *

Just as soon as Zeb returned to the hangar, he was ambushed with a task list as long as he was tall. _Never a dull moment in the Rebellion_ , Zeb thought, but went about his duties without many complaints, aside from the heat, which he knew very well none of them had any control over. 

It was still really kriffing hot. 

Before the midday break rolled around, however, Zeb found himself trapped in a conversation with another technician who was complaining about the tips and tricks Hera taught him aboard the _Ghost_.

As Zeb was being reminded for the hundredth time that day, fighters were not freighters, and they needed to be wired differently.

Zeb wondered if it was worth pissing off all the technicians and insisting his repairs worked on Atollon and they worked just fine on Yavin 4 until someone got all uppity and complained. The only thing the complaining accomplished was irritating Zeb.

Already hungry, hot and tired, Zeb growled.

A glimpse of gold caught his eye. As half-paying attention to the grumbling technician as he was, Zeb saw no harm in flat out ignoring them in favor of tracking down what he hoped was a certain- oh yeah, there he was.

Across the hangar, Zeb realized, with a smile he didn’t even think about, was Kallus. Without his jacket, yet again the humidity was coaxing those locks into twisting a bit around his head. One of those gloved hands reached up to tuck the stray strands behind his ears, but as soon as Kallus dropped his hand, only about a dozen more loose strands appeared around his face. 

The datapad in his hand lost his interest, because Kallus looked up, searching the hangar and looking between the many number of x-wings and rebels scattered throughout the crowded space. As soon as his gaze landed on Zeb, however, the Lasat’s smile turned into a toothy grin, and he tilted his head to get a better angle of that slightly sweat-slicked skin glimmering under the light from outside the hangar.

Zeb watched Kallus return the smile, not as shy or Imperial as it had been at one point. Kallus’s face was rich with color and the skin around his eyes was wrinkled. To Zeb, he looked like he was laughing, with a holo taken in the midst of that happiness.

 _I make him happy,_ Zeb thought and actually laughed. 

Kallus chuckled. With the distance between them, Zeb couldn’t hear Kallus over the sounds of the hangar, and Kallus definitely couldn’t hear him, but he could see the shoulders move. Whatever stress Kallus was feeling evaporated and he sat down on the edge of a crate, arms braced on his thighs and leaning forwards. His eyes did not wander from Zeb the entire time, nor did Zeb’s from Kallus. 

_Hey_ , Zeb wanted to say. _I haven’t talked to you in a while. Are you doing okay?_

He might have done so, too, if not for the loud crash that earned everyone’s attention, including, much to Zeb’s disappointment, Kallus’s. His head twisted quickly enough Zeb prayed his neck wouldn’t break. A toolbox had been knocked off the s-foil of an xwing, landing on the head of a poor Trandoshan pilot who was laying on the stone floor and holding his head, likely where he’d been struck, Zeb suspected. 

Even as a dozen others rushed to go help, when Zeb turned to gaze across the hangar again, Kallus was ordering others to get out of his way, leading a Rebellion medic and their kit to the injured and bleeding, Zeb realized by the smell, pilot. She didn’t seem keen on being the center of attention. 

When Zeb watched Kallus shoo away the spectators and stand over her and the medic to stare down any nosy bystanders, he shook his head with that same smile. _Same old Kal, always thinking about everything._

Zeb waltzed around the hangar and snatched up the datapad where Kallus abandoned it, gladly taking the excuse to visit him in the Intelligence offices later that day.

* * *

Sure enough, when Zeb stepped through the doorway in the temple leading down the hall to where Kallus spent most of his time working. Already, Zeb took in the bitter scent of caf and the subtle atmosphere of the place, composed mostly of the persistently exhausted desk-workers and their half a dozen mugs on every surface, and then some.

When he reached Kallus’s desk, located near the windows, as Zeb recalled, he wondered if it was better or somehow worse than all the other times. On the one hand, the immaculate workspace was very becoming of someone of Kallus’s focus and talents, although Zeb learned some time before, much to Kallus’s own disdain, Kallus, by his own nature, was a very messy person. On the other, it likely meant Kallus hadn’t been working at his desk all day, something that baffled Zeb, so used to seeing Kallus practically chained to the durasteel four-legged surface.

Recalling the vivid memory of seeing Kallus fumbling to arrange the piles of crap on his desk as Zeb arrived to visit late one night, Zeb chuckled. Kallus had actually blushed, and slumped in his chair, looking up at Zeb from below one precarious stack of flimsi between them.

“What’s all this?” He asked. “Did you let them just use your desk as a dumping ground, Kal?”

Eyes flicking between Zeb and the expansive mess before them both, Kallus scooted back up in his chair and began to sift through the flimsi to dig out no less than seven mugs. “Ah- well, no. Not exactly,” Kallus said, setting the last bizarre bright green mug with its companions.

Zeb wondered if Kallus knew the mug he saw most often in those gloved hands was the exact color of Zeb’s eyes, or if he missed that particular detail. With Kallus, as Zeb knew, you could never tell.

“Well, then what happened?” Zeb asked, ears tumbling downwards as his eyes grew gentle.

“Ah,” Kallus cleared his throat. “I happened?”

Zeb stared down at Kallus. He had a tendency to play things down, especially when it came to conflicts with other members of the Rebellion, trying not to cause trouble or draw attention to himself, and Zeb was still coaxing Kallus out of that shell of his.

“You did this?” He asked in disbelief.

Kallus nodded, biting his lip. “I did, yes.”

“Your desk never looks like this.” Zeb said.

“Actually,” Kallus said with another darker flush. “It always looks like this, Zeb.”

“But I’ve never-?” Zeb gaped. “Do you just spend hours cleaning it up all the time?”

Kallus ducked his head and mumbled something about proper upkeep of a workspace and a chaotic, rapid-fire thought process he struggled to keep up with.

“Really Kal?”

“Maybe.” Kallus didn’t look back up again.

That night, and a few others where Zeb found Kallus positively drowning himself in piles of intelligence work, Zeb helped Kallus unearth himself and straighten the desk to be every bit as immaculate as Kallus preferred.

Just as immaculate as it was when Zeb stood in front of it, datapad in hand, without any sight of Kallus. Frowning, Zeb took in the empty, neatly arranged surface and smiled when his eyes fell on their counterpart. Claws snaking across the surface of the bright green mug, Zeb plucked it up from the desk and smiled down at it, remembering seeing it in Kallus’s hands almost all the time. Of course, Zeb wondered if Kallus knew his mug of choice was the exact shade of green of Zeb’s eyes, but he’d never dare to say as much. 

Not when seeing it in Kallus’s hands was enough to bring enough joy to Zeb he felt his ears waggle before he stopped them. Luckily, Kallus never noticed, and if he did, he never said so much as a word.

Speaking of, where was Kallus if not at his desk. Zeb set the datapad on the Fulcrum agent’s desk and turned to survey the room, searching for the flash of gold and- ah, there he was.

Leaning over Cassian Andor’s shoulder and speaking in firm, decisive tones, Zeb saw what he suspected were indicators of Kallus’s mess of choice, indicating he’d been working with Cassian rather than at his own desk alone. 

Not unprecedented. Zeb was tempted to leave the datapad and stride over to greet Kallus but he looked so busy and-

Conveniently, Andor seemed to be wrapping up whatever conversation they were having, freeing Kallus to look up and see Zeb. When their eyes met across the crowded room, Kallus grinned, and opened his mouth to call out Zeb’s name when, instead, the surly bark of General Draven’s voice spitting the name Kallus tore them both apart. 

When they returned their gazes from Draven to one another once more, the apologetic look in Kallus’s eyes said it all. Zeb waved his hand dismissively. If Kallus had to work, then he had to work. Zeb understood. He nodded his head towards Kallus’s desk and waved, backing out of the strongly-brewed air of caf and enough stress to make Zeb’s skin crawl. There would always be the next time.

* * *

Running across the landing field, Zeb knew for the second time that day, he’d been spotted by the same pilots working up a bit of a sweat as the sun went down, just as he had that morning.

Kallus was waiting.

Or at least Zeb hoped he was. With his feet pushing him further away from the _Ghost_ and towards the Massassi temple, Zeb kept up a steady pace, a little faster than he’d prefer to be seen moving, but no less determined to make up for the time lost daydreaming in the ‘fresher.

Running late was not something Zeb did often, but it was unfortunately an evil that reared its head from time to time, often on the worst of occasions. Meeting up with Kallus included one such encounter he did not want to be late for, but Zeb already was.

Across the open expanse, there he was, Zeb realized. Standing within sight of the Lasat, Kallus was watching the boisterous crew of rebels pouring out of a ship after a successful mission, that same kriffing datapad in hand, ( _does he ever put down his work?_ Zeb wondered).

Tempted, oh so tempted to shout the man’s name, Zeb tried to move in such a way Kallus might notice him standing not too far away. He didn’t need to draw attention to what he suspected was already common knowledge across base, if Hera’s attitude was anything to go by.

Just as Zeb was about to cave, Kallus turned his head and his body relaxed at the sight of Zeb. With one four-fingered hand lifted up into the air, Zeb waved. Kallus smiled broadly, returning the gesture and tucking the datapad under his other arm.

 _Why, hello, Garazeb_. He seemed to say.

Zeb nodded, arm falling to his side. _Hey, there, Kal._

Taking the first step forwards, Zeb carried himself across the grassy stone, warm to the touch, with a welcome evening’s breeze weaving past his ears, and Kallus’s hair, Zeb saw. The two of them were solely focused on one another and any other on the moon’s surface was nothing more than a distant echo.

Though not as open and unguarded as before, Zeb could make out Kallus’s no less devastating smile. Even smaller, it lit up Kallus’s face in a way Zeb suspected was in no small part because of him.

Even if it was just his imagination, Zeb could’ve sworn Kallus’s lazy walk turned into a brisk stride, before launching into a pace just shy of a run. Zeb matched Kallus without thinking, and the two of them continued to hurry across the landing field when Kallus froze.

Zeb saw it out of the corner of his eye, an eye trained and made to see the ripple of purple stripes and feline ears, with glowing eyes and a towering stature, almost a meter above the heads of his companions and every square centimeter packed with muscle and seething rage.

_ Lasat _ , Zeb realized, looking away from Kallus for one moment. One moment, he looked away, and in the next, he saw where Kallus’s own eyes had fallen, just before he saw Kallus falter and come to a complete stop, all possibilities of joy driven from his very being.

Not just any Lasat, either, Zeb realized too late.

His entire expression contorted in horror, and Kallus took one step back, stumbling the opposite direction, away from Zeb, before turning and running altogether.

The clatter of the datapad was drowned out by the returning Rebels’ own cheers, but Zeb watched it tumble from Kallus’s arms and the screen go dark, cracked and face down in the patch of grass from where Kallus fled.

Zeb turned around, searching for anything that had the potential to cause Kallus to so abruptly flee. A quick scan of the open area gave Zeb not one lead to pursue, but he had more important things to chase after; namely Kallus.

“Kal!” Zeb shouted, slowing to scoop up the datapad and slowing to a stop altogether. He looked up from the little damaged piece of tech in his hands and up at where Kallus’s green jacket vanished around the corner of the passageway into the temple. “Kallus, wait!”

Kallus did not wait, but Zeb wasn’t known for his stubbornness without reason.

He burst across the distance between Kallus and himself, determined to close the gap before he lost Kallus altogether.

A brief but no less hurtful suggestion emerged, and Zeb didn’t stop himself from wondering if Kallus’s sudden disappearance had anything to do with fear of Zeb. As much as it pained him to admit it, Zeb knew their long, twisted up past was enough to wrangle a tangled-up mess of emotions. The terror and animosity between them both may very well may not have been left behind.

Zeb shook the apprehension as best he could. The only one who could answer the question as to why Kallus ran was Kallus and trying to guess would only end up making things more difficult for the two of them.

* * *

He never thought of Kallus as small. Not before, when he was in the Empire and exuded that terrible Imperial grandeur without so much as an inkling of effort. But crouched on the grassy ground on the opposite side of the temple, with his arms around his shins and leaning forward on the balls of his feet, Kallus looked about as small as a scared child.

The first night Kallus spent on the _Ghost_ , Zeb watched him sleep. Not because he wanted to make sure their Fulcrum agent was still breathing, although later he would come to realize he very much had, but because there were likely a number of others on the Corellian freighter who wished otherwise. 

Even in pain, despite the sharp inhales when his body moved the wrong way, and his ribs had to have ached, Kallus’s chest rose and fell at close to the same pace as it did when he was awake. Deep breathing, as steady as a song’s rhythm, and a near lullaby for Zeb to listen to. Tempted by sleep’s siren call, Zeb struggled to stay awake, green eyes peering through the dark of his cabin to watch Kallus. 

Awake, but only through sheer force of will, and a fear he didn’t himself understand, Zeb pushed himself to keep watch over Kallus. Zeb would never forgive himself if anything happened and he’d fallen asleep, instead of safeguarding Kallus. And so, he waited.

The man curled up on the floor and gasping shallowly, uneven noisy wheezes and a shaking moving through his entire body looked just like Kallus, but nothing else about him resembled the force of a man Zeb had come to reckon with over the years. 

“Kal?”

Shaking his head, Kallus refused to look up at him. “I can’t do this; I can’t.”

“I’m here, Kal,” Zeb said, crouching down to look into Kallus’ eyes.

Kallus didn’t look up at him, even when Zeb dared to take the ex-imperial’s face in his hands and brush his fingers over the skin and the carefully crafted blond chops.

Zeb dipped his head and tried to look into those golden eyes. One thumb brushed the stray lock of his hair out of Kallus’s eyes, gold giving way to brown, a brown that was a warm as Kallus’ heart.

A single tear slipped from his eye onto Zeb’s thumb where it rested on Kallus’s face.

“Oh, Kal,” Zeb said, feeling the trembling under his fingers and throughout Kallus’s body. “Whatever it is, I know you can do this.”

Kallus sniffled and shook his head. “I can’t, Zeb.”

“I know you can do whatever you put your mind to. You’ve proven it again and again in all the years I’ve known you.”

“That’s the issue!” Kallus looked up, daring to meet Zeb’s gentle green gaze. “Zeb, you know me! How could you possibly know me and-?” A muffled frustrated cry came through the sleeve of his jacket even when Kallus buried his mouth and face in it.

“I’m here.”

With every rock back and forth, Kallus’s worsening breaths did nothing to calm himself or Zeb. Having never seen a human, much less someone like Kallus, break down in such a terrible way, Zeb didn’t know what to do. His mind was torn between scooping Kallus up into his arms or letting him be. But how could Zeb do either while still in good conscience?

Every instinct screamed at him to act, and so Zeb knelt down and reached out one hand to trace Kallus’s back. Zeb, surprised when Kallus reached around and threw the Lasat’s touch away, would not be deterred. “Hey, Kal, I’m here.”

Kallus’s eyes, wide open and full of a fear worse than Zeb had ever seen from him, carried only whispers of recognition. “Zeb,” he said so softly, hardly any other being would’ve been able to hear him. 

“Yeah, Kal,” Zeb said. “You’re in real rough shape. C’mere.”

Kallus turned away, brown eyes squeezing shut again. He hiccupped and nodded, despite not looking at Zeb.

“Alright,” Zeb said, as one arm returned to Kallus’s back. When the human flinched under his touch, Zeb made as soothing a sound as he could. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, I’ve got you. Okay? I’m right here, and you’re safe.”

Kallus nodded slowly.

“Right, now let’s get you over here,” Zeb declared, settling onto the ground completely and pulling Kallus into his lap, one hand moving up and down his back. His claws caught on Kallus’s orange shirt, but Zeb pulled them free without so much as nicking the fabric. 

Arms full of the man who resembled everything and nothing about the Kallus Zeb had come to know, he continued to let Kallus’s breaths slow for as long as it took. Zeb didn’t care that the moonlight was creeping into the corner of ruined stone on the far side of the temple, or that the grass and dirt were streaking across his jumpsuit. 

Zeb cared only when Kallus’s calm turned to silent shaking tears, just to brush them away with his thumbs. They kept coming, however, and the motion across Kallus’s cheekbones shifted to take root in his hair. At each of the gentle strokes over the top of his head, Kallus leaned into Zeb’s touch, visibly craving each time his hand returned to caress his skull.

“You’re okay, you hear me?” Zeb repeated. 

More than one kind of worry left his body at the sensation of Kallus nodding. 

With more bravery than he thought possibly with Kallus, Zeb whispered into his ear. “I’m not letting you go anytime soon,” he said in the same low rumbling murmur. “So you might as well get comfortable.”

Kallus actually laughed as he nodded, and even if his voice was hoarse, and Kallus wasn’t as put together as he usually was, Zeb didn’t care. It was a wonderful sound, and his ears lifted at the very first chuckle. “I know better than to try and argue with you about such things.”

Zeb snorted, tucking Kallus’s face into his chest. The same hand continued the soothing motion through Kallus’s hair, paired with a similar motion on his back. “That’s good. I’d hate for you to waste all your energy trying it out first.”

“As opposed-” Kallus’s breath hitched as Zeb’s hand trailed downwards. “To what?”

This time, Zeb wasn’t merely joking. “Focusing on getting better,” He said. “Or telling me what happened so I can try to help make it better for you.”

Zeb wasn’t prepared for the question that came next, one he’d forgotten to fear in favor of rushing to Kallus’s aid. “Why?”

“Aw, I’m just looking out for you,” Zeb said, waving his hand dismissively. “You’d do the same.”

Kallus nodded, falling silent and shaking off the last of his trembles. The moon’s steady ascent into the starry night sky did not tell the time beyond what Zeb could guess on his own, but the slowing of Kallus’s breaths, shoulders rising and falling with every slower exchange of air in Kallus’s lungs was enough for Zeb to reason with himself it’d been long enough.

“Kallus,” Zeb said finally, after the human’s breaths slowed and his chest stopped heaving. Even the tears on his face and in Zeb’s skin dried, leaving Zeb torn between his own conflicting desires. On the one hand, if Kallus was asleep, he would be able to hold the ex-Imperial for as long as he wanted, without the fear of rejection. On the other hand, to tell Kallus he loved him meant Zeb would no longer hide the insurmountable weight of his desire to snatch Kallus up by the waist every time he was within reaching distance, and every time he wasn’t, too.

Zeb wanted it so bad, he opened his mouth and rumbled Kallus’s name.

At first, nothing changed. Kallus’s slow breathing remained the same and he remained more or less limp in Zeb’s lap.

A rush of disappointment so closely intertwined with relief shot through Zeb, enough of each he didn’t know which to lean into more strongly. A part of Zeb’s mind, perhaps louder than the others, suggested he “accidentally” wake Kallus up, and the longer he thought about it, the more tempting the proposition grew.

“Zeb?” Kallus breathed, looking up from where he’d been resting his face in Zeb’s jumpsuit, big open brown eyes searching Zeb’s face.

_Kriff, what was I supposed to say again?_

His mind wandered off some time in between the decision to speak up and the part of the conversation where Zeb required words rather than sheer bravery, but looking into Kallus’s eyes, the strong, bold man who Zeb cherished each and every day since realizing what it was he felt? Kallus deserved better than someone like Zeb, who stumbled in the darkness under the long-cast shadow of his own grief.

Kallus deserved better than to be trapped out of obligation with a lasat, lonely and broken enough to wish anyone like Kallus. Kallus, as Zeb learned was not simply the Agent who he’d warred against, nor the warrior he’d fought side by side with over Geonosis and again in the Rebellion, but the man who sometimes snorted when he laughed, or twisted the loose string of his jacket around his fingers when he had bad news, or wore gloves to hide scars twisted across his skin from Thrawn’s merciless torture.

And to settle for someone like Zeb out of some notion of debt or honor? How could Zeb be so selfish as to trap the one he’d so desperately wished to set free? He could not guide Kallus’s devoted, kind spirit with a firm hand as he knew most lovers desired from him, nor could he bear to see someone like Kallus, someone Zeb cared about deeply enough to reach out for across the impossible barrier between Rebel and Imperial again and again.

Ears falling down on either side of his head, Zeb sighed. “It’s nothing,” Zeb said.

Just as Kallus said: “I love you.”

Zeb’s eyes widened and he stared down at Kallus in shock, inhaling sharply. Both ears flew up and twitched as they turned towards Kallus. “What?”

“I- you-”

“Kal,” Zeb breathed, face splitting into a grin. “Kallus did you just say what I think you said?”

“Zeb, I think I just did,” Kallus said, returning Zeb’s grin with his mouth, even if his eyes screamed terror.

“Oh, Kallus,” Zeb said, taking one hand of Kallus’s and bringing it up with his own to rest against his cool freckled face. “Beloved,” Zeb said, realizing he hadn’t returned the words in Kallus’s ears, even if they’d echoed a thousand times in his own.

Dipping down to brush his beard against Kallus’s, Zeb inhaled deeply after a good few strokes. Satisfied at the mingling scent between them, Zeb dipped back down on the other side, listening to Kallus squeak when Zeb’s breath tickled behind Kallus’s ear, warmer than Yavin 4’s faint breeze.

“Beloved?” Kallus managed to ask as Zeb continued to work in the scent he’d long desired to cling to Kallus’s muttonchops.

“Yeah,” he said. “Because you are and will continue to be loved. By me.”

“Zeb,” Kallus’s jaw dropped. “You are quiet poetic, and as lovely as it is, are you saying?”

“Yeah, Kal,” Zeb grinned. “Yeah. I am. I love you, Kallus. Just never thought you’d be the one saying it to me. At all, and definitely not before I said anything.”

“Were you ever going to say something?”

“I just did, didn’t I?” Zeb asked playfully, and he scoffed at the bemused glance Kallus gave him.. “Nah I know what you mean. And I would’ve said something tonight, but I didn’t want to scare you off again.”

With a laugh, Kallus threw his head back and his arms around Zeb’s neck, looking up at Zeb with such a wonderful smile Zeb wondered if it were possible to capture a holo with his own eyes. Not one part of him wanted to see that smile fall away from Kallus’s face, and to his relief, it remained when Zeb clambered to his feet, Kallus laughing in his arms.

“On your feet, then Kal. It’s a long walk back to the _Ghost_.”

“The _Ghost_?” Kallus asked, looking up at Zeb with a crinkled nose over his wonderful smile.

“You’re not spending the night alone, beloved,” Zeb said. “We’ve got a lot to talk about, and I, for one, think you’d like to do it with a little more privacy than we can find out here.”

Neither one of them, amidst their adoring glances and easygoing strides across the grasses around the temple, noticed the datapad, cracked and abandoned, sitting in the grass where Kallus’s forgotten tears streaked along its screen.

* * *

The crisp knock on the door to Zeb’s room startled not only him, but Kallus too.

Lounging in the top bunk, one arm hanging over the edge and the other wrapped around Kallus’s waist where the ex-Imperial had been sleeping on Zeb’s chest. Zeb and Kallus both were only in their boxers, and Kallus’s hair, as it often was without strict tending to, was a disaster. Zeb smiled sleepily at Kallus brushing away the messy strands in the way of his view of those lovely brown eyes.

“Zeb, it’s getting late. Are you getting up any time soon?” Hera’s voice rang through the hall and into the room.

With a whine, Zeb tossed his head back and his free arm over his eyes. Even with the lights still off, Zeb didn’t want to see much of anything but Kallus’s face, or the back of his eyelids for that matter.

Kallus’s breathy chuckle did little to encourage him to leave the man in his arms, but with a brush of their beards and a press of Kallus’s lips to the corner of Zeb’s mouth, Kallus rolled off of Zeb and nudged him towards the edge.

After stumbling to the controls for the door and grumbling things under his breath the entire way, Zeb remembered to shield his eyes from the light of the hallway too late. “Agh, Karabast.”

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Hera said, one hand on her hip and the other at her side. “You sure stayed out late.”

“M’ the boss of me. Not a kit. I can stay up late if I want to.”

“Of course,” Hera said, and Zeb couldn’t tell if she was mocking him or agreeing. Either way, she held out a datapad and smiled. “This is for you. It’s from Kallus. I think the next time you want to keep something to yourself, though, don’t leave it where Wedge and every other pilot in the Rebellion can find.”

“Huh?”

“The datapad? The one Kallus gave you?” Hera asked.

Zeb’s face contorted in confusion. “Kallus’s datapad?”

“Yes,” Hera said slowly. “The one you were carrying around base with you yesterday?”

“Wait, it was for me? That whole time?” Zeb asked, turning on the cracked, flickering screen, eyes darting across the scribbled aurebesh.

“Oh, stars,” Kallus said, appearing behind Zeb and wrapping his arms around from behind. Head under one of Zeb’s arms, Kallus blushed, but muttered loud enough for Zeb and Hera to hear. “I was hoping to use that particular set of notes last night, although I may have forsaken that plan, however unintentionally.”

Hera, to her credit, did not do much more than raise an eyebrow at Kallus’s presence, and nodded once at him, even as he pressed himself into Zeb’s skin. “Well, I guess that’s sorted out. Just be ready for everyone in the temple to start quoting some of those back at you two.”

Zeb’s uneasy feeling of apprehension crept onto his face. “Wedge shared it with how many people exactly?”

“The whole base.”

“The entire base?” Kallus echoed. “How could he possibly have done so in such a short amount of time?”

Hera shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I just took it from him before he tried to make copies of it to sell to Mon Mothma and General Draven.”

Kallus and Zeb groaned simultaneously.

“Have fun you two lovebirds,” Hera teased, striding down the hallway with a wave over her shoulder, leaving the lovebirds in question to sift through the datapad of Kallus’s odd, half put together musings. The notes were rather charming, if a little cheesy, Zeb decided, and he turned to gaze at Kallus, who much to Zeb’s delight, considering it was rather charming, was blushing furiously.

Kallus sighed, burying his face into Zeb’s side. “Sorry,” came the muffled apology.

“What?” Zeb asked, looking down at Kallus in surprise. “What do you mean you’re sorry?” 

“I’m afraid I could have spared you a great deal of embarrassment if I hadn’t committed such thoughts as-” Kallus cleared his throat, peering down at the datapad in Zeb’s grasp. “‘The flutter of your ears is as wonderful as the breeze over a valley of jungle flowers,’ Zeb.”

“Now who’s the poet?” Zeb teased. “I don’t mind a bit of teasing, especially not about bein’ as pretty as those jungle flowers n’ stuff. Not when I finally have you. I might as well be a dancer in some fancy outfit to those nosy pilots for all I care.”

Kallus blushed harder.

Zeb chuckled. “Wait don’t tell me. I walk as rhythmically as a dancer or somethin.”

“You fight like one, if you’d rather I be more specific.”

Zeb chuckled, setting the datapad down on a shelf and looking down at Kallus, his gaze no less adoring than before glancing over the embarrassing musings of a lovesick Kallus. 

Leaning forwards, Zeb placed his hands at the base of Kallus’s skull and leaned forward, brushing their cheeks together for not the first time since discovering their feelings for one another, and certainly my the last.

“I love you, Kal,” Zeb mumured as he pulled away from the gentle brushing of both their beards. “I don’t care what goofy ways you try to show it, because I know you love me, too. Whatever Wedge thinks doesn’t matter. Who cares? All I care about is you.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Suppose? I’m definitely right,” Zeb grinned down at Kallus, still cradling that brilliant head of his. “I love you, Kallus. I mean it.”

Kallus grinned, hands finding a similar place on Zeb’s head and returning the gesture as best he could. Zeb leaned into it, and as Kallus pulled away, he chuckled a breathy sound into Zeb’s twitching ear. “I love you. And you are most definitely right. Wedge is likely jealous.”

The mirthful laughter filling the inside of the _Ghost_ was enough to warm up the freighter, leaving that same joy that once lived between the Spectres in their home to take up residence not only in their hearts, but the heart of the _Ghost_ , flickering to life much like a shattered datapad. 


End file.
